


We Happy Few

by KateKintail



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, D/s themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facial Shaving, Little!Bucky - Freeform, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Non-Sexual Age Play, Stuffed Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: Big!Steve spends his morning caring for little!James.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 117





	We Happy Few

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cowboyguy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboyguy/gifts).



> Written April 2020 as a birthday gift to a friend.

The moment Steve Rogers wakes up to an otherwise empty bed, the worry begins to set in. Today, they were supposed to be working out. Then they were to take their bikes and head out of the city toward the open roads and adventure. Steve has been looking forward to these plans all week. As he rolls over, he hears the sound of a strangled sob, and he immediately shoves his hopes for the day aside. He’ll need an entirely different plan now. It’s one of those days.

He gets out of bed, pausing for one brief moment to indulge in a stretch that fires up his muscles. He’s going to need them today, just in a much different way. Then he follows the sound of crying to the bathroom. Steve is barefoot, wearing nothing but boxers and a plain white t-shirt, and the morning air is a little chilly against his exposed skin. But he runs hot, always has since the treatment, that time he’d been frozen in ice notwithstanding. 

Steve finds Bucky standing in front of the bathroom mirror, holding a straight razor in his only hand. There is a single smear of shaving cream on his cheek, like he started and couldn’t get any further. His hand is shaking too much to do anything with the razor. Tears stream freely down his face as he whimpers. He stares at his reflection with a gaze full of self-loathing and frustration. To an outsider, this would look bad. But Steve knows better. Bucky isn’t trying to kill himself or even hurt himself. In fact, it’s just the opposite. He wants the hurt to stop, and this is the only way he’s found that works for him. Sometimes, especially after particularly cold nights, he wakes up and just cannot deal with the world. Sometimes his traumas are too much, his feelings too intense to face; they’re an unseen enemy he can’t fight against. Sometimes he needs something simple, something understandable, something pure. Sometimes he needs his captain to be his care taker. 

Steve takes a breath to center himself. He has to be careful and deliberate with every movement he makes, every word he speaks. He knows for certain now who is behind those gorgeous eyes he sees reflected in the mirror, and it isn’t the Bucky he’d fallen asleep beside the night before. It isn’t the Winter Soldier, either. It is James. 

Moving slowly, Steve enters the bathroom. The first thing he does is to press his hand to the small of James’ bare back, the skin warm to the touch. James needs his touch to focus, but it alone doesn’t stop the crying. For him to calm down completely, Steve is going to have to help him. “I c-can’t…” he manages to stammer, staring unwaveringly at his own reflection.

“I know,” Steve sooths. He holds his free hand out, uncurling his fingers so it is palm-up. “Hand me that, Buddy. I’ll do it for you.” 

The shaking of James’ hand becomes violent, but he manages to move it in the direction of Steve’s. With his super soldier abilities, Steve could easily grab it in about a second, but he knows better than to do so. No sudden, quick movements; that’s the rule right now. He could punch Nazis. He could fight aliens. But the patience required to wait for James to hand the razor over is almost more than Steve can stand. When the handle finally touches his hand, he does not snatch it away. He waits longer for James to release it freely. Then he closes his fingers around it. 

James’ hand still shakes, however. And he still stares at his reflection, distress clear in his expression. “I don’t want…” 

“I know,” Steve repeats as he slides the hand on James’ back over and wraps one strong arm around James. “Close your eyes for me.” James’ breath hitches, but he obeys, because he always obeys his captain. But Steve feels it’s important to add an “I’ve got you, Buddy” anyway.

The reassurance seems to help, for the tears stop falling. “Good,” Steve murmurs. “You’re doing so good.” He longs to stroke James’ cheek, but he mustn’t. Much as he loves Bucky’s dark scruff, this rugged look on him, Steve knows even running the pad of his finger over the thick stubble right now would be enough to set him off again. So he sets down the razor and reaches for the shaving cream instead. It will be weeks, maybe as much as a month or more before Bucky looks like this again. It is disappointing, as he’ll miss this look on his lover, but Steve has given his assurance.

And so he proceeds to pick up the straight razor and run it over Bucky’s cheek. The head tilts and glides across the curves of Bucky’s cheek and chin. Steve taps the razor against the side of the sink then goes for another pass. Not wanting to startle James or cause him to move and get cut, Steve works slowly, methodically. When he is done, he sets the razor down and pulls the hand towel off the nearby rack. He uses it to tenderly wipe away any excess shaving cream and checks to be sure the shave was close and clean. He looks so much younger without a beard. 

And wasn’t that the whole point? “I’m done. You can open your eyes again.” 

James does so hesitantly, opening one eye then the other. It is with great relief that he relaxes at the sight of his clean-shaven face. His appearance now matches how he feel on the inside. His hand no longer shakes as he raises it and draws two fingers down his smooth cheek. James whispers a barely audible, “Thank you, Captain,” before being enveloped entirely in a strong-armed hug. 

Steve squeezes tightly, protectively. He knows James will stay here forever, if Steve lets him. But he also knows that James needs much more than a hug right now. “Let’s get you into some warm jammies, and you can curl up on the couch while I make breakfast. How does that sound?”

James nods in agreement, head bobbing against Steve’s chest. He drops a kiss into James’ hair. Wanting to shower Bucky with affection is nothing new for Steve. But receiving sweetness is not what the Winter Soldier was made for. It’s only recently that Bucky has found this way to cope and let him in. At first, Steve was just playing along, performing a role, doing whatever he needs to make his love feel better. Now… now he enjoys being James’ captain. It isn’t about sex. It isn’t about power. It’s a method of survival. And if it’s one thing both the Winter Soldier and Captain America know about, it’s how to do what it takes to survive. 

James’ pajamas are a navy blue, fleece one-piece. They’re soft to the touch, and Steve has to admit he loves holding James in them. But they must feel even softer to wear, because James goes all limp and wobbly in them. The only way he manages to get James to the couch is to give him his teddy. It’s actually a white wolf stuffed animal with blue plastic eyes and a black plastic nose. James picked it out himself but Captain bought it for him. And on days like this, he can’t stop hugging it. It gives him comfort, sure, but it also gives him strength. He hugs it tight the way his captain hugs him, and being able to do that makes him feel good. 

James waits at the couch to get a plush blanket swirled around him. Steve makes sure it’s wrapped warmly but that there’s enough fabric at the top so James can rub his cheek and lips against the soft material if he wants to, because he often wants to. James curls up on the couch, head on some cushions, as Steve lays another blanket upon him. This one’s thicker and looser. The third blanket is a weighted Sherpa-plush mix that makes James’ body go still. It’s not too heavy for him to push off if he gets too warm, but the weight is still enough to make it feel comforting, reassuring. It’s a decent substitute for Steve himself. “Are you comfy, Buddy?” Steve asks, once James has settled in.

James doesn’t reply, because he can’t lie to his captain, but he can’t disappoint him either. He doesn’t look as relaxed and comfortable as he should yet. Steve takes it a bit personally. So he pulls and tucks and adjusts the blankets for him until he gets a small smile out of James. “Is that better? Is Wolfie all right under there?” 

The white wolf is tucked under James’ arm, buried under multiple layers of blankets. James squirms and adjusts until the wolf’s little head peeks out into the air where it can keep watch. James snuggles it to his chest, looking pleased, delighted, really. It’s an expression Steve rarely sees on Bucky’s face these days, so he’s thrilled to see it now. 

Steve runs his hand through James’ hair, letting strands slip through his fingers and fall back. But he sweeps them from James’ face so James doesn’t have to move his arm out from under the warm and cozy blankets. “Good.” Steve hates to leave him, hates to pull his touch back, but his own stomach is rumbling, and a captain has to make sure his little soldier doesn’t go hungry. “Stay comfy. I’m going to go make us some breakfast.”

He doesn’t turn on the television as he leaves. They didn’t grow up with TVs, so it’s not something James will respond well to. They didn’t grow up with name brand plushies and weighted blankets either, but there’s a difference. Even when it’s programming for young children, television is still full of fast-moving images, flashes of light and color, unpredictable noises. Instead, James likes to listen to the sounds his captain makes as he makes breakfast. There’s humming. The crack of an egg shell. The sizzle of bacon and oil in a pan. The scrape of a knife and butter against toast. The rattle of cereal from a box. The dull clink of a plastic spoon in a bowl. And the flow of orange juice into one glass and one sippy cup. 

James is smiling when Steve returns to him. And he smiles even more when Steve burrows under the weighted blanket to pull him into his strong, muscular arms for a quick cuddle. There would be time for much more of this after breakfast. The eggs, bacon, and toast were starting to lose their heat and the Cheerios were starting to get soggy. But they both need a cuddle just now. 

“Captain?” James asks, even sounding a bit younger in his tone and inflection. 

“Yeah, Buddy?” 

“I…” he stops, uncertain about how to ask. Captain is there to take care of him. Captain is there to do whatever he needs Captain to do. But asking for the help and care he wants has always—always—been the hardest part. At first, he’d broken down so many times trying to make his captain understand. And now Steve got it. He knew without having to be told when James needed shaving or swaddling or cuddling. But there were still some things he didn’t know, some things James had to ask for. “I…” His voice cracks, and Steve feels his pulse begin to quicken, anxiety rushing back. 

“Take your time,” Steve tells him. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

James lets out a sharp breath, almost like a sigh and a laugh combined, like he had known that but needed desperately to hear it said. He squeezes his wolf and tries for a third time. “I was thinking… I want… could I have… another stuffie maybe?” He bends his head forward and nuzzles his face into the white wolf’s soft fur. “I love Wolfie. Don’t want to get rid of Wolfie. But I think I need more to hug. I can’t… explain… please…” 

But Steve doesn’t need him to explain. He can’t promise him anything he wants, because there are some things even Captain America can’t control. And if this had been Bucky asking, the man would have understood this wasn’t an unreasonable request to make. He wasn’t asking for peace on Earth or for a magical, time travel fix to his pain. A stuffed animal cost a few bucks, and money is no problem for them. It isn’t so simple for James to understand this. James depended on his captain for everything. “Of course you can get another. You want a friend for Wolfie?” 

James nods, looking relieved again. Captain understands. 

“I’m so proud of you for asking.” It must have taken a lot out of him. His eyes are closed still, and his heart is still pounding in his chest. Steve snuggles his James close, kissing his forehead. “Did you have one in mind? I can grab my tablet, and we can look through online shops while we eat breakfast, so you can pick out the perfect one. Unless you’d rather go to the store?”

James tenses up, immediately stressed by the choice of going out in public like this which would let him feel and squeeze a stuffed animal to make sure it was perfect versus staying snuggly and warm on the couch and ordering online but not being sure of what he was ordering. 

Steve tries to calm him. “You know, we can always send an order back if it’s not exactly what you want.” 

Distressed, James only shakes his head at this. “Wouldn’t be fair to the stuffie if we did that. Even imperfect things need love.”

His heart aching, Steve hugs him so hard for that. “You’re absolutely right about that, Buddy.” 

“I… want an eagle, please,” he tells his captain. “A red, white, and blue one. A little bit bigger than Wolfie. With soft, plush wings and a smooth beak.” James has given this a considerable amount of thought, it seems. 

Steve wonders how long James has wanted this. He doesn’t want James to wait a second longer. “I think we’ll be able to find that for you.” 

James opens his gorgeous eyes, gratitude shining in them now. “And I want some bacon.” 

Steve squeezes him and kisses his forehead, laughing. “I don’t blame you. It smells so good, doesn’t it?” 

Together they sit up, readjusting the blankets only a little. James keeps Wolfie tucked tight under his armpit even as he holds his cup by its big, plastic handle. It makes funny sounds when he sips from it, making them both laugh. Steve feeds him, letting James take the first bite before taking one himself. He’s not sure what James will want to do today. Maybe he’ll want to color. Maybe he’ll want to play a game. Or maybe they’ll just cuddle. Steve doesn’t care as long as it makes James feel the way he wants to feel. 

Nothing about their lives has ever been normal. They’d always taken their happy moments when they could get them. A bag of peanuts at a ball game. A chaste kiss in the dark corner of a dance hall. A drink together for coming home safe after a mission. An adrenaline high after a great workout. An apartment they could call their own. Just because the sorts of things they wanted now were a little different didn’t mean a thing. 

“Toast?” Steve offers, reaching for the triangles of buttered toast. 

“To my captain,” James toasts playfully, holding up his cup, which is red and covered in white stars. 

Steve laughs and raises his glass, bumping it against James’ cup. “To us.” He pulls James against him, enjoying the feel of the softness and squishiness that is part of James in this state. 

“Including Wolfie?” 

Reaching down, he pets Wolfie’s soft, white fur. “Of course including Wolfie.”

James nuzzles Wolfie, and then he snuggles up against Steve’s chest. He’s so warm and lovable like this that Steve can’t not hold him. And what James says next makes Steve’s heart soar. “I love you, Captain.”

“I love you too, little buddy.” And it’s true, too. Days like this aren’t exactly what he’d expected when he’d bunked up with Bucky. But, in a way, it’s better. Because it’s what they both need sometimes.


End file.
